Hannah Montana Meets the Pretty Committee
by MileySmilez
Summary: When Hannah's tour takes her to NY and OCD, what will happen when rich meets humble? SECOND COMBINATION.
1. Trailer

**TRAILER**

_They're the richest, most spoiled girls on the face of New York…_

_She's an average freshman leading a double life of the world's biggest popstar…_

_But what happens when Hannah's tour takes her to NY for a period of time and she has to go to Octavian Country Day (as Miley) for a while? _

_Will she go insane with the pressure the Pretty Committee is putting on her to reach her full "ah-mazing" potential?_

_Or will there soon be a sixth addition to the well-known Pretty Committee?_

_Coming soon to a fanfiction web near you._

**Author's Note:**

Hey, guys, it's MileySmilez. What's up? This is my second recent combination of my two favorite things from different worlds. I haven't finished my Harry Potter/Hannah Montana one yet, but I've given you seven chapters, so you should be good for a while (I will still update, don't worry!). Also, this idea just came to me, so if I don't get it down, it'll be out of my forgetful head before I can say "Clique." I will post the first chapter is a couple of minutes, most likely. Enjoy!


	2. Arriving in NY

I gazed out of the window with longing. We were just passing beautiful New York City and heading towards Westchester. I was going to be living there in a five-star hotel temporarily. The city was beautiful, and I could only wish that Westchester was too. I had been dozing calmly in my little corner of the tour bus while my daddy thumbed through the newspaper we'd picked up in Canada (after one of my concerts there).

"Dang flabbit!" my father shouted in frustration. "Half of this paper is in French! I don't speak French!" I rolled my eyes playfully at him. "Well, maybe, next time you want to read something in a country where French is a relatively main language, you should pick it up," I suggested. He pantomimed hitting me and smirked. I just love the close relationship I have with my father. Normally, as teens reach adulthood, they grow farther away from their parents, only to be reconnected when they mature fully. Then Jackson ruined our moment—"Has anybody seen my deodorant?" I rolled my eyes, annoyed. "No, Jackson. But trust me, if it was close, I'd _smell _it before I _saw _it. I swear, that scent is worse than Luanne after her mud bath." Jackson cocked his head in puzzlement. "But I just bought it—it's supposed to be odorless." I figured out what had happened (he'd transferred a good portion of his smell to the deodorant) and let out a moan: "That's dis_gusting, _Jackson!" I chucked one of my down pillows at him angrily. He dodged it quickly and wagged a finger at me menacingly. "Watch it, _little _sis," he ordered, putting emphasis on "little." I smirked. "Whatever. Like I'd ever be afraid of you." He looked at me curiously and angrily. "I have lightning fast reflexes! Try me." I rolled my eyes for a third time. "Okay, then." I picked up his Joey Votolo autographed baseball (you don't even want to _know _the trouble I went through to get it) and pitched it right to his forehead. It connected and his arms flew up about two seconds late. "I thought people with good reflexes would be able to catch that," I commented with mock puzzlement, cocking my head innocently and batting my eyelashes. "I've got to go," Jackson mumbled angrily, disappearing into his "room."

My father chuckled heartily. I noticed he'd substituted a novel for the French newspaper. "Mr. Stewart," the driver called from the front seat. "We've reached our destination. Miss Stewart may want to become her 'other self' now, or they won't let her past the front doors." I smiled at the back of his head. "Good idea." I removed my wig from the table (where I had thrown it a few miles ago) and placed it on my head. After fixing it (I was a pro at it by then; I didn't even require a mirror), I said, "Check!" Just as I did, we pulled into the parking lot of a gorgeous resort. Jackson, the little weirdo, scampered eagerly inside. "Whoa!" he shrieked as he ran about the lobby. I was embarrassed. "Dad, if anyone asks, he's _not _a Montana. He's a little hobo man we found lying on the side of the road and I am such a sympathetic person that I allowed him to stay in our tour bus momentarily and we are buying him a room to live in here, okay?" My dad tried to maintain a straight face. "Now, Miles, don't be embarrassed by your brother. He's just being...Jackson." I shrugged. "How else could you describe _that?" _I pointed to my brother who was bouncing around on the chairs, sticking his tongue out at the mature guests parading their puppies around. I smacked my hand to my forehead.

"Let's hurry and get to our room before we get kicked out." We checked in and hurried to our room. My father immediately commanded Jackson and me to get some rest. "It's only nine o'clock in our minds!" Jackson pointed out. "Jackson does have a valid point—whoa, that's something I never thought I'd say!" I admitted. Jackson smiled. "Thanks, Miles—wait…was that a compliment?" I stared at him. "My point exactly," I said exasperatedly. He shrugged. "Maybe it's only nine o'clock to your minds, but that means when you get up it will be four hours early than whenever. And you're going to have to get up very early for school. And you two have a big day tomorrow. You're both starting at a new school."

Jackson punched at the air. "Yes! Briarwood Academy! They have a huge soccer program," he informed. "Jackson, in case you don't remember, you can't play sports," I reminded him gently. He shrugged again. "So what? I heard chicks dig it! And we'll be right next door to your school, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, where there are a _lot _of chicks. Hot ones, too," he said excitedly. My jaw dropped. "Jackson, that's rude. It's not Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (which is totally derogatory, by the way), it's Octavian Country Day, or OCD," I explained forcefully. "Whatever," Jackson said, brushing away my condescending tone. "To bed," my dad instructed as soon as we'd finished. We quickly got to sleep (despite the messed up body clocks).

**A/N: I am so into this, I'm (probably) going to add one (or maybe even TWO) more chapters right away! The next chapter will be in third-person view, since it will just be the Clique girls and the story is told from Miley's perspective.**


	3. Massie's Room

Massie stroked Bean gingerly. "Tomorrow we get a new student, Bean," she murmured softly into the dog's alert ears. "Who knows? If she's PC material, she may jump up the social chain—no one's ever done that before. And if she does, should we be enemies with her or let her join the PC, in case she becomes more popular than us? What to do, what to do…" Massie turned on her iPhone and checked. Four new text messages—one per best friend. "Ehmagash (**A/N: I'm using "gosh" instead of "God" cause of personal choice**)! Bean, three of these messages are wondering the same thing! And you know Claire—she isn't really up-to-date with school happenings."

**Hey, Mass! It's Leesh. Hear about the new student? What if she's a goddess and rises to b more popular than us? Is that POSSIBLE? We totally gotta keep an eye on her—I mean, she IS from the beautiful beaches of California—she's seen celebrities up close and has been able to take notes! She's probably really tanned, too! Can you say T-R-O-U-B-L-E?**

**Hey! It's Kristen. I wonder if the new student is an athlete—I hope! But what if she rules us all in soccer and leaps to star status? That can NOT happen. **

Massie rolled her eyes. Kristen's messages were short and to the point because of her phone's lack of full keyboard.

**Massie, it's Dylan. We've got a total problem. The new student (so I've heard) is tall, blonde, SKINNY, and a rising star! She's gonna break our group into complete pieces if she achieves super-popular status! We are in for it if we can't find her weakness. **

**It's Claire. What's up?**

Massie discarded Claire's and sent identical messages to the three about the new student.

**We only have one way to make sure that the PC stays on top. "If you can't beat the beauty, get her to join your team."**


	4. Welcome to OCD!

My limousine pulled up to the glamorous and overdone Octavian Country Day. I exhaled slowly and tried to collect myself. Would I fit in with these girls? I scanned the crowd for any Hannah Montana tees. I knew it was pathetic and stupid, but maybe I could find one person with that in common and we'd connect. But the majority of the girls were dressed to the nines. I stepped out of the limo with fake confidence. I immediately noticed a group of five girls whispering about me. I shrugged it off. But I took a more observant look and noticed at least ten other girl groups doing the same. All of the fake confidence I had washed away with their loud voices. I was reduced to nothing.

I walked up to a very pretty girl with long, black hair. She was Latina. She was talking with a group of equally pretty girls. "Um, hi, I'm Miley," I told her meekly. The girl looked at me as though I was crap. I didn't think I looked too bad. I was wearing one of my nicer outfits—a cap-sleeved turquoise short-sleeved shirt with a gray suede vest and a matching miniskirt. On my feet were silver ballet slippers. My hair was extra curly (I didn't know why) and down. I parted it so it fell past my chest and none was on my back. I pinned back each side near my temples with two unperceivable bobby pins. My makeup was subtle and yet not. I didn't think I looked that bad.

"Um, why don't you go talk with your LBR friends?" the girl asked mockingly, shooing me away and turning back to her friends. I was kind of offended, but not fully, since I had no absolute clue what an LBR was. I chuckled unsurely. "'LBR?'" I quoted. "That's really funny. Um, but I don't think you completely understand; I'm the new student and I'm—"

"Hold it!" ordered one of the girl's friends; a petite brunette with relatively short hair and very pretty features. _"You're _the new girl?" I looked around. Why was this so critical a question? Her brown eyes bore into me. "Well? Are you?" she demanded impatiently, tapping her Ugg-adorned foot. I bobbed my head up and down quickly. "Yes, I am. I'm Miley," I repeated. "Man, I'm sorry I'm being so weird," I apologized. "I'm just really nervous about being here. My old school wasn't even _half_ this fancy!" The girls, having suddenly changed their mood around me, laughed forcibly. "Most aren't," commented one with extremely long red hair (down to her _waist; _I wondered if it was real or not). **A/N: In the ninth book, Dylan gets extensions such as said hair. For those wondering. **I checked the rest of my potential friends—there was the Latina, the brunette, the red head, and two blondes. The first blonde had a short boy cut and sport features. The second had the features of a fawn—shy but beautiful—and semi-long hair. She was very pretty, but in a different, quieter way than the others.

"Welcome to OCD. I'm Massie," said the brunette (no wonder they didn't make fun of _me _for having an odd name!). "This is Alicia"—the Latina—"Kristen"—the sporty blonde—"Dylan"—the red head—"and Claire"—the shy blonde. I grinned at each of them. "We'll show you around the school if you'd like." I nodded eagerly again. Massie giggled. "You are like my puppy, Bean! Full of energy and totally cute." I blushed. Maybe I could fit in here!

The girls showed me the dance studio, spa, kiosks, and main buildings. I was probably looking like a total fool, gawking at every luxury, but I couldn't contain myself! "What's that large parking lot for?" I asked. Massie moaned. "Ugh, don't remind me. When Briarwood had a total mysterious fire caused by nature"—she winked at her friends—"they had to come here for a semester. And because OCD can only hold so many people, a lot of the students were sent out here to live in trailers. Of course, we totally pimped the trailers. And Briarwood was rebuilt quickly, so the boys are off of are hands." She pantomimed washing her hands. I nodded understandingly. We retraced our steps back to the kiosks and they kindly purchase a Dr. Juice drink for me. I sipped it until the first bell rang. Then I had to leave my new friends and go to home room.


	5. The JBs

**A/N: Because of multiple requests from my ah-mazing reviewers, I'm going to add a couple guest stars…**

"We all wanna believe in luh-uh-uh-ove! We all wanna believe in somethin-in! Bigger than us-uh-uh-us!" I cooed into the microphone to immense applause, which increased as I finished. "Thanks guys for all your amazing support! I love it here in NY—and I can't _wait _to visit NYC! See you next time! Bye!" I dashed off stage quickly and shimmied past the Jonas Brothers, my opening act. I smiled sweetly at Nick, the cutest one (and also the closest to my age), then whispered frantically, "You guys better head out and do your bow before the crowd disappears like that cheesy magic act Kevin did before the show." Kevin nodded understandingly, and then shot me a look. "Hey!" I shrugged and gave him a hearty shove. I did the same to Joe, but I gently pushed Nick. No need to damage his fragile body—whoa I sound freakish.

The boys finished their bow and returned, high on adrenaline, as I am after a concert. "Hey, Hannah," Nick called. I whipped around. "Yes?" He smiled. "Let's go to Joe's dressing room to hang out." He gestured towards his brothers and me. I nodded flirtatiously and we headed towards Joe's temporary dressing room. "So, Hannah, we were hoping you could tell us a bit more about the school we're supposed to be going to. I'm pretty sure you've seen it. Isn't your brother going there?" I thought back. I faintly remembered the boys telling me about them going to some fancy academy, but the name slipped my mind, since I'd been deep into vocal exercises at the moment. But if they meant Jackson…Briarwood!

"Oh, yeah, right, Briarwood!" I paused for a second, making sure I was correct. "Well, it's huge and very nice. You don't have uniforms, and the soccer team is apparently really amazing and crucial to them. Can you play soccer?" I asked the boys. Kevin and Joe shook their heads, but Nick nodded slightly. "So-so," he admitted. "I'm not a great offensive player, but my defense owns all." I smiled innocently, pretending I understood what a soccer player did on "defense" and "offense." Joe opened his mouth as if to tell me something, but we were interrupted by my father.

"Great show, darling!" he boomed. I knew that voice—he just didn't want me alone in a room with a few of my guy-friends. I rolled my eyes unnoticeably. "We'd better head—you have a tough day tomorrow." I understood that he meant school, but couldn't say it because Hannah wasn't attending school—she had a private on-tour tutor. And the JB didn't know I was Miley—yet. I planned on telling them when the moment was right.

"Alright, Daddy. See you, bros," I called playfully to my stage-mates. I sauntered out to the limousine and piled into the backseat. We drove in silence. I immediately retired to the confinements of my bed without another word. Every concert sucks the energy out of me. And I needed some rest so I would be ready to confront the "Pretty Committee" (that's what they call themselves—isn't that cute?) the next morning.

**A/N: Normally I'd end the chapter here, but I'm going to keep going. **

The next morning, I chose a cute silver jersey dress (I admit, it came from Hannah's closet) with a black belt around my waist. I wore tight black leggings. On my feet were stylish black ankle boots. My hair was up in a ballerina bun and I wasn't wearing any jewelry. My makeup was slightly more noticeable than yesterday because gray and black don't exactly carry the weight color-wise. I did wear a silver bracelet, though, with my name engraved in it. I think I looked pretty good.

"Dad, I'm off to school!" I called. When I arrived at school a couple minutes later, I met up with my new "crew." Massie smiled at me. "Have you heard the news?" she asked quickly. I frowned and shook my head. "The _Jonas Brothers _are going to Briarwood!" Alicia whispered excitedly. I displayed a show of "excitement." I really had none—to me, it was like finding out my best friend who I always see is going to that school. Nothing too exciting. "I totally have a chance with Nick!" Dylan told me, finger-combing her hair happily. Okay, that was pushing it. Nick was mine—or Hannah's—and she needed to know that. "Nick's mine!" I shouted furiously. All five of the girls looked at me curiously. Claire, who hadn't said a word to me the entire period of time I'd known her, looked away right after. She obviously liked Nick too but was afraid to come out in front of the all-powerful Massie Block. "Whoa, girl," Kristen said jokingly, as though I were a horse. "It's okay; we're not going to get in your way with 'your man.'" She added stiff air quotes around the last two words. I smiled meekly. "Sorry, but he's just so darn cute!" The girls nodded in agreement. "But, as you all should already know, since Derrington and I are done and over, I think that I'll move onto Nick. I mean, you know how much of a chance _I've _got. And I do have quite an advantage over you," Massie said sympathetically. The girls nodded. I mimicked them.

Poor Massie. She had no clue what she was talking about. But I was determined to boost my social status (which was already pretty high; I was known as the newest PC member, although I don't think I was officially initiated into the group) by showing Nick, clinging to my arm, as my boyfriend.

And I had one easy advantage over every single one of these girls—I'm Hannah Montana.

**A/N: I know a whole bunch of you will probably hate me and delete me off your favorite author list when I say this, but please note: I do not support Niley, nor do I think Nick Jonas is cute. Maybe I will learn to love it. Hehe. Luv u guys.**


	6. Sneaking and Secrets

**A/N: I dedicate this chapter 2 one of my friends, Polly. **

The next day at school, every single girl was in distress. I tapped Massie on the shoulder and whispered, "What's the matter with everybody?" I noticed Massie's mascara was slightly smudged, as if her eyes had been tearing up! Massie took a deep breath and turned. Dylan started massaging her shoulders. "Nick—the celebrity—has a _girlfriend _already!" she wailed, stomping the ground. "And he didn't even give me a chance!" Alicia nodded sympathetically. "It's totally true. He never even got to see Massie," she stated, turning to Massie. "It's okay, Mass, there're plenty of other fish in the sea."

Massie wailed louder and shook her head. "I don't want a fish! I want a celebrity. And Nick was supposed to be my rock star! He'll be hearing from my lawyer." Claire took over the coaxing. "It's okay, Massie," she cooed in a pleasant tone I'd never heard her use before (well, I've never heard her period). "He obviously doesn't know what he's missing out on. Tomorrow, we'll just make sure he sees you. The second he does he'll dump his 'girlfriend' and ask you out. I swear!" Her voice was very convincing, and Massie quieted. "Um, who is this girlfriend?" I asked, trying to contain my inner anger. How could he go get a girlfriend behind my back?

"Her name's Polina. Everyone calls her Polly though. Like a parrot! Anyway, she has blonde hair that's bleached and these light eyes that are most likely contacts. I _guess _she's pretty, tall, and slender—how could he chose her over me?" I shrugged. I was thinking the same thing angrily. "I will follow him all day if I have to!" Massie promised. Then the bell ring.

**THAT NIGHT**

"Do you have your outfit prepared?" Massie asked Alicia. Alicia nodded importantly. "You can leave your hair down, since it's black. I have to tuck mine into my cap. Ew! Can you say 'Kristen-do?'" she asked jokingly. Alicia, Claire, and she were going to spy on Nick. He was staying in a hotel not too far off. If they stayed hidden and avoided the protective bodyguards, everything would run smoothly. Claire quietly followed Massie by tucking in her blonde hair. When the girls were fully decked out in black, they crept out of Massie's gym/barn and started off towards Nick's hotel.

**A/N: I know that normally, fans wouldn't know where celebrities were staying, but WORK WITH ME, PEOPLE!**

**MILEY'S ROOM**

I took a deep breath as I flipped open my phone slowly. I punched in the number 10 (signifying speed dial ten, Nick Jonas) and mashed Send. As it began ringing, I braced myself for what I was about to do. "Hullo?" asked a voice. I prepped up my voice and made it as bubbly as I could—Nick liked happy-go-lucky girls.

"Hey, Nick! I was wondering if you'd like to come and meet me at my hotel room! I have something really important to tell you. It's too big for a phone conversation. Can you be over here in five?" I asked politely. Nick paused for a second before answering, "Sure. Just me?" I nodded to myself. "Just you," I echoed to confirm. I was positive that Nick would either tell Kevin and Joe or let me do it when I was ready. Most likely the second. That was just the kind of wonderful guy he was!

I adjusted my Hannah wig and replayed what I was to do in my head. It was go time.

**THE BUSHES OUTSIDE OF NICK'S HOTEL**

Alicia giggled as Massie tried to detangle a strand of her hair from a thorny branch without spearing her finger. Massie quickly flashed Alicia a quiet sign and returned both of her hands' attention to the knot. Claire whispered, "He's leaving the hotel! What's he doing?" Massie finished undoing the knot and checked out the doorway. Sure enough, a tall male figure with dark clothes and sunglasses was exiting the building. His bushy hair was a giveaway, though. "Where are his bodyguards?" Alicia asked. Massie checked all of the places they could possibly be. "I guess we got lucky—he must've snuck out! _That's _why he's being so secretive! No one's here right now—no cars are here, even! He could walk right by and nobody would mob him. Genius."

He crossed the street and flitted into the hotel across the way. "Go, go, go!" Massie hissed urgently, shuffling her friends along. The girls crouched down and "ran" the length of the bushes. When they reached the street, they stood up and flitted across, watching for passersby or cars. They entered the hotel, trying to look normal. When they saw Nick enter the elevator, Alicia and Massie hurried to the nearest one, which was being occupied by a slow moving family. Claire held them back and pointed them in the direction of the stars. Moaning and groaning, they rushed up the stars. They saw Nick exit the elevator and knock on a door to his right. It opened and, standing there, was _Hannah Montana!_

**MILEY'S ROOM'S DOORWAY**

"Hey, Nick," I said meekly. He smiled his sweet smile. I just melted. He could get anything out of me. "So, Hannah, what did you want to tell me?" Nick asked, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. "Well," I began slowly, "you don't have to call me Hannah." Nick nodded. "Oh. Okay. Well, see you." He turned to go. "Wait! I have to tell you the reason why." Nick rotated and stared at me expectantly. I exhaled slowly. "Well, the truth is, I'm not just a celebrity. It's a little more diverse than that." Nick stared at me, silently begging me to explain. I grabbed a handful of wig and began removing it slowly. "I'm not just Hannah Montana; I'm also Miley Stewart, the completely normal freshman from California."

**THE CORNER NEAR MILEY'S ROOM**

Claire, Massie, and Alicia gasped all at the same time as they watched the drama unfold before their eyes. It was normal at first, until they picked up on some of the dialogue. Hannah was talking about being more than one person. Alicia looked puzzled when this happened and murmured, "Multiple personality disorder…." Massie held up her hand, signaling for her to quiet. She did. Then, Hannah dropped the shocker: "I'm not just Hannah Montana; I'm also Miley Stewart, the completely normal freshman from California," she'd said, pulling off her blonde wig and revealing a head of curly brown hair. Massie gasped. "So that means that the new girl who we feared would be more popular than us—" she started. "—is really the largest teen pop sensation in the entire world?" Alicia finished, marveling.


	7. The Plan

**A/N: To who asked, I think this is a Niley story, yet not…I mean, Nick and Miley's relationship obviously has a significant role in the story, but the Clique girls do, too. And Miley's secret. I guess it's a Nilessiciastenairlanannsecrety. Yeah. That's it.**

**MASSIE'S ROOM**

Massie slammed her fist down on her desk. "This is a super important emergency meeting, girls," she told her committee. "Miley's a huge celebrity! What do we do? Should we take her in under our wing and get her to expose her secret so the entire school knows that we're friends with a celebrity? That would totally add to our stock. Or should we forget about popularity and go for riches and fame? With that picture Alicia took of Miley (the one with her holding her wig and staring at Nick), we could get anything we wanted from her! Money, time on stage, a recording contract, a modeling gig, or whatever we want! The first one's much nicer, but that's not exactly 'the way we roll.'" Massie added air quotes around the last four words, which were borrowed from a Jonas Brothers' song.

Alicia raised her hand importantly. "I object," she argued, using her father's court vocabulary. "We're plenty nice. Just when we have to be and to the right people." Massie considered Alicia's true statement and shrugged. "Anyways," continued Alicia, "I think we should do both at the same time. We can get her alone and try to coax her into exposing her secret. We'll say 'We already know you're Annahay Ontanamay,' so she knows what she's up against. If she doesn't cooperate, we'll go to bad cop and tell her that we'll expose her precious secret if she doesn't give us what we want."

Dylan bit into a Zone bar and nodded eagerly. "Great idea, Alicia! That way, we're being just the right amount of mean! I love it." The nicer girls of the group (the blondes) stayed out of the conversation. Massie noticed this and mentioned it. Claire cleared her throat ("Ahem") and said, "Well, I don't really approve of what we're doing, since I know what it's like to be on the other side of the operation, and I really don't want to bestow that upon _anyone, _not even somebody who can benefit me completely. And this way, I can honestly say I had nothing to do with it." Massie was shocked; Claire had gained so much confidence and self-esteem since she started hanging out with the Pretty Committee. She had watched her little pupil evolve into total PC material—if only her heart wasn't so forgiving and kind.

"Let's put it to vote," Massie called, already predicting the outcome. "Who wants to try Alicia's idea?" Three hands shot in the air. Kristen's wavered slightly before coming back down. Massie put her hand up then. "Hands down. Who votes we pretend this never happened and let Miley go on with this humongous secret?" Two hands shot up. "Alright, we're going to try Alicia's idea. And anyone who backs out, rats us out, or interacts with Miley without permission will face eternal expulsion from the Pretty Committee," Massie said darkly. All four other girls gasped.

"Let's do it, girls!"

**A/N: Sorry for the lack of length.**


	8. The Top and Bottom of the Crab Barrel

I couldn't have been happier. The events of yesterday replayed in my mind, each detail standing out clearer than the next. I vividly pictured me ripping my wig off, exposing my best-kept secret, and imagined his face. He didn't answer for a couple moments, which initially worried me. But then he shook his curls and smiled at me. "You're even cuter as a brunette," he stated playfully. And then I had a true moment; something I learned not to have after what happened with Jake Fat-Head Ryan. I pulled Nick in and _kissed _him passionately. He—fortunately—returned the kiss. We just stood there, making out for a few seconds, and then he broke the kiss.

"Oh, man, I'd better be heading. My brothers were probably expecting me back a while ago; I said I was just quickly stopping by. And it's my turn to make sure Frankie gets to bed and all. Sorry, Hannah," Nick apologized sincerely. He turned to leave and I grabbed his hand. "Call me Miley. After all, that _is _my name," I teased. Nick winked at me and took off. I fell back onto my bed and fanned myself. Had that really just happened? I grabbed a complimentary pen off of my bedside and wrote I HEART NICK over every surface that I could find (making sure they all BELONGED to me, of course). My dad knocked softly.

"I saw that," he whispered, smirking. I blushed. "It doesn't matter, I'm in love," I cried, spreading out my body. My dad rolled his eyes. "I like Nick," my dad said, "I really do. But last time you got involved with a 'celebrity,' you ended up getting hurt and confused. Are you sure that you're going down the right path?" I sat up and put my hands on my hips. "Daddy!" I wailed. "Yes! And Nick isn't conceited and snobby—he's genuine and funny and super cute and everything. Plus, who else can handle my complicated life and complicated me than a person who totally understands? AKA Nick!" My dad nodded and disappeared, leaving me to bask in my happiness.

Then I heard a knock on our door. I pranced over to the door and pulled it open joyously. Standing there was the entire Pretty Committee—minus Claire, as I often found. I smiled. "Hey, guys! I have a huge story to tell you—it's worth probably a thousand gossip points at least!" I chirped happily, letting the solemn-faced beauties in and sitting them down on the couch.

Massie's expression immediately changed. "So do we," she said, nodding. "But let's go into your room first. I don't want anybody"—she shot an unnoticeable look at my father—"to hear. It's a mega secret." I nodded understandingly and bounced over to my room. I was overly happy and displaying it in a way that probably made me look insane, but I didn't care! The love of my life—for at least three months, anyways—was finally together with me! Nothing could go wrong.

Massie sat down on my bed. Alicia plopped down next to her, smoothing her pony skin skirt. I grimaced at the thought of a pony being skinned for a skirt, but I was so happy that I wouldn't allow anything to damper it—I told myself that the horse was probably already naturally dead. Kristen sat on the floor and Dylan propped herself up against the bed, munching on some fat-free Doritos.

"So, Miley," Alicia began importantly, "are you aware that Hannah Montana was seen entering and exiting this EXACT room earlier this week?" I froze inside, all of the happiness evaporating. I smiled nervously and chuckled. "I don't know Hannah Montana; I wish I did, but it's not going to happen. If you think she was hanging out at my house, I could ask Jackson if he's keeping a huge love-related secret for me…." I gagged silently at the thought, then added (for good measure), "Maybe they got back together! Jacksannah lives!" I punched the air with my fist. No one shared my reaction, so I lowered it, frantically chuckling nervously.

Massie shook her glossy curls ("Jakkob did them to give me a 'fresh look.'"). "No, Miley, we think that you're hiding a little something from us. And we've got major proof. I'll show you." She fumbled in her purse, trying to locate something. She pulled out a photograph. My muscles tightened, and I felt like I was in the top two of America's Next Top Model. Massie was like Tyra Banks, and whatever was on the other side of the photograph would either make or break me.

She turned it over, adding to the tension and suspense gathering in the room. I crossed my fingers behind my back and bit my bottom lip. When I saw what was on the opposite side, I realized that I was _definitely _NOT America's Next Top Model. I was the farthest thing from it.


	9. Backstage Debutants

The picture was a very high quality shot of me standing in my hotel room partially and talking to Nick Jonas. The picture wouldn't have been a threat if I hadn't been holding a blonde wig that stood out vividly. I couldn't help myself; I burst in to tears. My best-kept secret was in the hands of the girls who could make my life miserable with their popularity and their cold hearts.

"W-w-what do you want-t-t?" I stuttered through my heavy sobs. Massie shot a look at Alicia, who had opened her mouth as if she were about to say something, then wrapped her arm around me in a comforting fashion. "Don't worry, Miles!" she cooed. "We aren't going to hurt you. We were just a little angry that you didn't tell us. But we can be understandable—I get why you didn't. We're not your closest friends, I know. And you didn't know if it was safe. Trust me, it is! And now that we know, we can go to some of your concerts and hang backstage with you as little good luck charms, right? I've _always _wanted to go to a Hannah Montana concert. She's—I mean, you're my favorite singer."

I looked up, sniffled a bit, and smiled at Massie. Massie wiped my cheek with her thumb. "There we go," she said. "There's my little popstar." I grinned and threw my arms around her. "Thanks, Mass," I whispered. "I'm so lucky to have you guys. My next concert is tomorrow night. Would you like to come? You can bring a friend." Massie broke the hug and stared at me with her hands on her hips. I replayed what I had said in my head—had I offended her somehow? "Miley," she spat seriously. "I already have all of my friends right here." She threw her arms around Kristen, Dylan, Alicia, and me as her smile reappeared. 

"I have the best friends I could ever wish for," I cried. Massie smiled. "So do we."

**AT THE CONCERT THE NEXT NIGHT (this is in third-person point of view—Miley is not telling the story)**

"Ehmagawsh!" Massie cried as she snapped pictures of backstage at the concert with her iPhone. "I cannot be_lieve_ this place! It's totally gorgeous. I belong here!" Alicia nodded eagerly. "This is, like, the feature beholding!" she shouted, inspecting her glittering backstage pass. "I'll be an honored guest back here when I'm a reporter! All the celebrities will be dying to have me backstage to interview and review their shows! My opinion will be super important to them."

Kristen smiled thoughtfully. "I wonder how much all of this costs." Dylan bit into a chocolate-covered strawberry and attempted conversation with her mouth full. "Wwaa khras?" 

"Excuse me?" Massie giggled-asked, laughing at her crazy friend. Dylan swallowed dramatically and repeated what she'd said earlier: "Who cares?" Kristen rolled her eyes. "I'm just wondering." Alicia changed the subject and turned her attention to Massie: "So, Mass, why did you pull that whole 'we-come-in-peace' act yesterday?" We all know that you have no intentions of coming in peace. What's up with _that?" _she asked, hands on hips. Massie flashed her the "be-quiet" sign and discreetly indicated Hannah's silhouette exiting left stage, where they were sitting. All girls instinctively sat up straight and orderly, cheesy smiles replacing their all-business frowns. 

"Hi, hi!" chirped Hannah eagerly as she plopped down on a plush couch right next to Massie. "Hi, hi!" echoed Massie, quickly hugging the celebrity. Hannah breathed loudly and exaggeratedly and said, "Man, I am beat! This crowd is demanding! How do you like the show so far?" 

The five (Claire was there, but silent) girls nodded eagerly. Before Hannah could reply, the crowd began chanting her name. "I guess break's over. See you guys soon," she shouted, dashing out. 

Massie began talking: "So what should we ask from her first? We have to do it nicely so she doesn't realize what we're doing, got it?" Alicia twiddled her fake-nailed thumbs and looked thoughtful. "Well, it's not like we need money," she pointed out honestly. "Or popularity." 

"But if we get Hannah to agree to show up with the Pretty Committee, our popularity would be set in stone until we're old ladies!" Dylan interrupted, also offering a valid point. "Exactly," Massie said importantly. "Dylan is correct. If we get Miley to talk about us on a radio show or an interview or get some paparazzi to photograph her hanging out with us, our popularity will never die down! Everyone will be thinking of the Pretty Committee as _legends. That's _what we want. There's not much else we could ask for, if you ask me. We already have cash, Alicia could supply concert tickets cause of her 'connections,' and we're already gorgeous—there's nothing missing except eternal popularity—which we most likely would have anyway, but just to be safe—and Hannah could hand that to us just by being seen with us for a little while."

Half of Massie's audience nodded. The two blondes were preoccupied with something else—Claire was tugging on her short bangs and Kristen was "studying" a nearby insect. 

All five girls put their hands in the middle (after a Look from Massie at the blondes) and Massie called, "1, 2, 3!"

"Gorgeous, glamorous, filled with glee! We're your neighborhood, not-so-friendly T-P-C!" the other girls chanted, throwing their arms in the air when they reached the end.

**A/N: The cheer stinks I know, but I was in an odd mood. Hehe.**


	10. Massie or Miley?

Lily heard the entire conversation between Massie and her "Pretty Committee**A/N I just did a Live Preview on this chappie b4 coming here and this happened! this happened b4 2! and it's nawt on my microsoft word...has this happened 2 any of you guys b4? maybs its the new document uploader?? idk**

Lily heard the entire conversation between Massie and her "Pretty Committee." She was _furious. _"_No one _is doing that to my best friend," she told herself silently. "If they want to mess with Miley, then they have to go through me first!"

She stomped out to wear the PC sat, sipping diet sodas with lemon wedges in them. "I heard everything you just said," she stated, staring at them expectantly. Massie rolled her eyes. "Um, that's great," she said sourly. "Do I care? Shoo, strawberry." Lily adjusted her short red "hair" and glowered at Massie. "You are not going to do that to Miley," Lily said with fake confidence. "I can assure you that." Massie giggled. "Like you can stop _me? _Have you _any _idea who _I _am? No, I don't think you do. I've never seen you around OCD, and trust me; I'd see someone with split-ends like yours. You'd be the butt of all our jokes."

"I don't go to 'OCD,'" Lily spat, "because I live in California. I came here because I'm currently visiting my grandparents, and Miley/Hannah, my best friend in the entire world, just happens to be touring right now. And mark my words; she's going to hear everything you just said about her! I promise you that."

Massie waved the "problem" out of her face. "So what? She's so caught up in being 'popular' that she'd do absolutely anything for us. She wouldn't believe her own _parents _if they told her that we planned to murder her or something. So there's really nothing to worry about on our part. Little Miss Secret-Keeper is ours."

Lily gawked at them. "How can you be so mean?" she asked, switching moods. The accusatory tone had left her. "Miley's trusted you and laid out everything on the table for you, and you just snatch it up greedily and then use her? Don't you have a heart?"

Massie looked like Lily had struck a raw nerve momentarily, but she immediately changed expressions. "I do. And it knows what's best for me. And it fights for what I need, not what other people want," she fired, staring hard and cold into Lily's brown eyes. "And that's final."

Miley, of course, heard the last part of the conversation (containing Lily) and stormed out from behind the curtain. "You-you-you _liars," _she said, tears coming down heavily and strong. "I can't believe I let you use and betray me like that! Why was I so incredibly _stupid? _I know I can never confide in such sleazy 'popular' people like you. Why are you such—" She used a very strong word, one causing Massie to recoil in shock. No one had ever called her that, and it sort of kicked her out of the "zone." She couldn't let her guard down and be as vulnerable as Miley, though, so she plastered on a fake scowl and said, "Come on, girls, let's ditch. Who wants to be at one of _her _concerts, anyways?"

Four girls stood up. One remained seated. "Kuh-laire," Massie whined, "I said 'let's ditch!' That's your cue to get up and move! Gawsh!" Alicia, Kristen, and Dylan looked sympathetically at Claire, who was receiving the aftermath of a showdown; Massie was always irritable and frustrated after nearly losing (or losing) a battle between one of her "lesser classmates." But Claire stayed in her seat, folding her arms across her chest.

"Claire!" hissed Alicia. "Get up! Massie's totally not in the mood to deal with your attitude right now! Just move and we'll deal with all this later. I promise." But Claire did not budge. Massie moaned and instructed the other girls to try and persuade and coax her to come. While they tried encouraging words, Massie just kept groaning, "My parents will kill me if I leave her at a concert!"

Claire wouldn't move or say anything. Finally Dylan got her to explain why she was so stationary and taut. "Because," Claire began strongly, "how you are treating Miley and her best friend is so horrible and inhumane that I don't want to leave with you. Ever. I don't even want to be part of your stupid little clique anymore. You can do whatever you want to my personal status and popularity. I don't care. Miley's a much better friend than I bet any of you could be," she lied. Massie was an amazing friend, once you got underneath her protective and tough outer layer.

Massie sighed. "Claire," she said calmly, "I can't _leave _you here. I don't care if you don't want to be my friend anymore, but you have to come home. You can storm off to the guesthouse immediately and never talk to me or the rest of the PC again, but you must come home with us. I don't care what you do afterwards."

Miley felt she should step in and help Claire. "Massie, leave her alone," Miley sneered, placing a hand on Claire's shoulder. "If she wants to stay, my limo driver would be more than happy to drive her home. I just need an address. Plus, I'll take a few pictures with you. Then you can tell everyone at OCD how you are best friends with Hannah Montana. Massie and the Ugly Committee will be a distant memory, and you'll be the most popular girl in school, no matter what they try to do to your reputation. Sounds good, doesn't it?"

Claire contemplated her options. She did _live _with Massie, practically, so being on good terms would be helpful to enjoy "home life" more, but Miley seemed so much nicer and less confusing. With Massie you could barely understand her mood swings. Did she hate you, or did she like you? It all depended. Miley seemed pretty down-to-earth and much less temperamental. And she decided to give it a try.

"Thanks for the offer, Miley. I'm going to take you up on it," Claire said proudly. "See you, guys." Massie's mouth fell open. The other girls looked slightly upset. "Um," said Kristen meekly, "that actually doesn't sound like such a bad idea. Can I come, too?"

"Me three," Dylan chirped. Alicia looked from Massie to Miley, Dylan, Kristen, Lily, and Claire. The group looked so happy compared to Massie. "Listen, Mass," Alicia began. "I'm still definitely your beta, and as your beta, I feel as though I need to respect your privacy, and I feel like you need some time to cool off. So I'm going to call Dean and have him give me a ride home, okay? You need some time all by yourself, for some confidential self-emotions bonding time. I'll see you at school on Monday. I promise."

Massie was so tired and defeated that she didn't search for gaping holes in Alicia's excuse. She just wanted to retire to the darkness of her Range Rover and cry, alone in more ways than one.


	11. PC vs PC2

A/N: Okay, we're back to Miley telling the story in first-person…for now

**A/N: Okay, we're back to Miley telling the story in first-person…for now. I haven't decided if we'll stay or go to third-person next chapter. Hehe. BTW I am SO sorry I've been so MIA (missing in action) lately! I've been super busy and I haven't had much luck creatively recently, but I'm going to try and wrap up this story (and the HM/HP one) ASAP. **

Monday morning, I spent an extra half an hour on my ensemble and hair. I straightened my hair so it gained a few inches in length, and then pulled on some of my favorite light wash purposefully-tattered skinny jeans underneath black Ugg boots. The top was the hardest decision, but I finally decided on a flowy peasant top (a shade of bluish-gray with a solid pattern) with cream-colored lace on the edges. I looked pretty stylish, if you asked me. Perfect for my new position as Alpha of the Pretty Committee. I shivered slightly as I remembered what we did to Massie. I could see the tears on the verge of streaming down her face before she fled, and I pitied her, against all odds. I did understand what she was going through, but I shouldn't have pitied her after the plan she concocted concerning me and my secret. I should've been furious at her and pleased by her suffering. But I wasn't that kind of person. I was kinder and more compassionate than her, and I really felt guilty about stealing her throne. But sometimes she had to learn she couldn't always come out on top.

My cell phone rang. "Hey, Leesh," I said into it coolly. "Miley," she practically screamed, "you won't believe what Massie's done!" I rolled my eyes, knowing that whatever it was, I could believe it, alright. "What?" I asked slowly, unsure of what I'd get. "She's trying to recreate the Pretty Committee, only with other girls! And surprisingly, some of them actually have PC potential! What are we going to do?" whined Alicia. My eyes bulged out of my head. "Isn't that what you tried to do a while ago?" I asked suspiciously, trying not to sound too accusatory.

"That's not the point!" she snapped. "The point is that if _Massie Block, _ex-leader of the PC, tries to recreate a group better than the one she previously formed, we're all going down. There's no if, ands, or buts!" I considered what she was telling me. "So?" I quipped. "If _you _were unsuccessful, what makes you think _Massie _won't be?"

"Because I'm a beta at heart! I _am _a beta, and everyone knows that betas can't step it up totally to alpha. They still have their beta-ish ways, and I didn't have the guts or perseverance to maintain a PC2. But PC1 wouldn't even _exist _without Massie, the alpha, and she can tear us down just as easily as she built us up! We're goners," she moaned.

"We are not!" I argued. "You've forgotten that you have a _new _and _improved _alpha. And Massie doesn't stand a chance."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

At school, the _real _Pretty Committee stepped out of my (Hannah's) limousine unsurely, not prepared or ready for what they might see. Would Massie be the center of attention with everyone crowding around her, asking about her new entourage? Would Massie be an outcast with her LBR/EW PC2, trying to get back on top? Or would she bound over to the limousine and apologize her heart out?

I led my new ensemble over towards the tree where the PC always claimed and sighed. "No sight of Massie," she observed. Alicia nodded solemnly. "If we're going to avoid her, we have to at least know where she is!" she pointed out. Claire also sighed and said, "Maybe she didn't show up for school today." Dylan glared at Claire. "Kuh-_laire! _You're the one who practically _lives _with her. Did you see her get into that hunk-of-junk Range Rover and drive to school? Or is she cowering in the comfort of her own overpriced estate?" she asked angrily, folding her arms across her chest.

Claire shrugged. "I saw the car leave but that's as good as it gets. Odds are she's here," she predicted. Kristen also shrugged. "Well, we _could _just look over there…," she suggested. Five pretty heads turned in the direction she specified. There, in all her glossy-curls glory, stood Massie, flipping her hair, throwing her head back and laughing, and looking angelic. Only the Pretty Committee saw the real devil within the angelic exterior. But what really shocked them was the group of equally pretty girls standing right behind Massie and mimicking her every move. Of course, the biggest shocker was the huge group of admirers trying to get in on the action.

"Ehmagawsh," I whispered into Alicia's ear. "Those 'fans' think that _she _dumped us, not vice versa."

"Call an exterminator," Alicia hissed furiously. "We have a rat in the house."


	12. CATFIGHT

I hate myself for never being active anymore

**I hate myself for never being active anymore. I'm so sorry guys I've just been incredibly busy.—A/N.**

Seeing Massie with all those giggling girls surrounding her was the last straw for me. "Alicia," I practically shouted, "hold my stuff!" I shoved my purse and jacket into Alicia's arms forcefully and stormed over to where Massie was.

"Massie, what the heck do you think you're doing?!" I screamed at the former alpha. She just batted her eyes innocently and stared at me. "What do you mean by that, _Miley?" _she spat. "Puh-lease, I can totally see you over there trying to be _me. _You're the worst wannabe out of all of them. Unlike Alicia, who tried to start over with a new PC, you're so desperate you have to steal one. FYI, Stewart, you're just a wannabe. Oh, and I think you've forgotten one, tiny detail…"

"And what's _that?" _I snarled, rolling my eyes. Massie _had _to have been stalling. There's no way she had _anything _she could use against me. "I know your precious little secret," Massie hissed into my ear. I backed away, forgetting _that _little detail almost completely. Massie knew I was Hannah. Massie hated me. Massie could tell the entire _world _with all of her connections. Oh, yeah, I'm doomed. But all of my pent-up rage and fury wasn't finished.

"Massie," I panted through deep, trying breaths, "Go DIE!!" Okay, so maybe that wasn't the most professional, mature thing to say, but what I did afterwards wasn't even _close _to the most professional, mature thing to do. I pounced on Massie—literally. Before I knew it I was on top of her, pulling at her extensions, fighting for total domination. But, as I suspected, Massie Block didn't give up without a fight. She fought back, bashing and pounding every available part of me she could. I think she gave me a black eye somewhere in our little "argument." It was literally a clawing, punching, bashing mess.

"MISS STEWART! MISS BLOCK!" screeched an obnoxious voice above our little fight. "Get up off of each other this instant." The owner of the voice pried us apart angrily. It was the principal. "That is not at all how young ladies should compose themselves. I am ashamed of you. Please follow me to the office so I can phone your parents immediately. You will wait in the detention room together until I can reach your parents. Thank you."

She led us into the building and pointed to an enclosed, vacant room. "Wait there," she growled. "And don't come out till I fetch you." Massie and I reluctantly entered the room together. For the first five minutes, everything was totally silent. Massie played with her hair, checking for split ends (which was stupid; they were extensions…I think she was just trying to avoid from talking to me). I played with my fingers, thinking about all the possible escapes from this horrible situation, but I couldn't actually come up with any.

"Massie," I said slowly, looking over to the alpha. Massie unwillingly looked up and stared at me. I could see her fiery amber eyes filled with extreme hurt for the first (or maybe second; at the concert she looked really bad, too) time ever. Seeing her so vulnerable was sort of awkward and off-putting.

"Listen, we need to stop," I plowed on bravely. "This has gone way too far. We're better than this. We don't need to attack each other like that. I don't get what happened. We were really good friends at first, weren't we? I don't get what happened."

"Jealousy," murmured Massie under her breath. I stared at her uncertainly. "I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you. Can you repeat that?" Massie took a deep, strong breath and repeated, "Jealousy. That's what happened. I was jealous of you. Here you were, a super pretty girl with basically everything (including a secret so big it would cause Ryan Seacrest to have a heart attack). I mean, as I just said, I even found out that you were _Hannah Montana. Are _Hannah Montana. Not only are you gorgeous, rich, popular, likeable, but you're even a megastar. I could never compete with that, so I thought, 'Why compete when you can just knock her out of the game?' And I guess that's what I tried to do…"

I gawked at her. Was _thee _Massie Block (PC-alpha, popular, pretty Massie Block) succumbing to _me _(gawky, dorky, weird Miley Stewart)? Maybe I hadn't understood anything she just said. Maybe I just heard what I wanted to hear…but Massie's expression definitely suggested that what I thought was true.

"Massie, _I _was jealous of _you," _I admitted hesitantly. "Who isn't? Everybody wants to be the popular, rich, gorgeous, cool, ah-mazing Massie Block. My secret probably makes me more of a loser, anyways, because I basically can never hang out with my friends due to stupid concerts. I hate my life. I'd do anything for yours."

"Ha-ha," Massie laughed, like _I don't believe you. _"Hannah Montana's alter-identity wants to be me? I'm flattered, yet totally unconvinced. Hello, earth to Miley, you have everything you want handed to you on a silver platter…I'd do anything for _your _life."

"Well, I guess neither of us are gonna be happy then," I said solemnly. "Since we're both stuck as ourselves." I looked up at Massie, where I noticed a trace of a smile dancing across her face. Suddenly, both of our almost non-existent smiles transformed into full-blown grins, and then, all of the sudden, we were both doubled over laughing. Tears streamed down our faces, smudging our makeup, but neither of us cared. We laughed and cried until we couldn't any more.

"Massie, you are truly the most ah-mazing person I've ever met," I told Massie honestly, smiling at her. "You're definitely alpha material. I don't get why I ever tried to take it away from you. It's really hard trying to run a bunch of girls." I giggled and smiled at her compassionately. Massie got up from her chair and outstretched her arms, asking for a hug.

We hugged for just a moment, and then she pulled away. We started chatting for a bit just like old friends until Principal Burns returned. "Girls," she said, "you're off with a warning this time, but next time I see you two doing anything against the rules, you will be in extreme trouble, you hear me?"

We both nodded eagerly. Massie grabbed my hand. "Miley," she said deviously, "let's go break some hearts."


	13. My Apology

**Author's Note/Apology: **I feel so bad for having not been on or updating to this story in so long. I shouldn't have started it if I wasn't one hundred percent sure that I would finish it, so I really apologize. My schedule is suddenly really tight, but if there's one story you REALLY want finished, please message me and I will contribute to it and finish it.  I'm so sorry, and I hope I didn't lose any of my loyal readers, haha. Thank you guys. xox


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